


Don't do drugs, kids.

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Kinda like Maze Runner, M/M, Medical trials, okay not really teens, young people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:25:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: Skint, out of a job, and kicked out of his parents house for being gay, 21 year old Phil Lester is desperate for money and shelter. Even if that means selling his body to science- which is his last bet. Reluctantly, he joins a trial with fifteen other young people in the same situation as him. But the facility isn’t what it seems and he’s more closer to home than he realizes. There he meets Dan Howell, a young prodigy who never seems to stop smiling, but hides dark secrets of his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I first published this around...august? on Tumblr- but I want to archive it for the future! :) i hope you like! it's very loosely based on a film i watched with nathan kress (it was shit lmao- but the concept was fantastic)

Dad didn’t have to make it so damn obvious. That’s all what ran through Phil Lester’s mind as he slowly made his way downstairs, trying incredibly hard to invert his gaze from his packed bags at the bottom of the staircase. He spied the bright red suitcase he’d used to go on holiday with college friends a few years ago and felt his stomach turn over. Two years ago. He was nineteen then, with an actual job, a decent amount of friends to allow himself the pride of being sociable and a girlfriend who had left him when he _accidentally_ got drunk on New Year’s Eve and made out with Harry Carter, the pub owners son. Phil felt his life slowly start to crumble and burn as he let one foot step in front of the other. Six. He was counting the stairs as he slid down them at a snail’s pace as he held the wooden banister, gripping on for dear, dear life.

Seven. He teetered for a second, dragging a shaky hand through unwashed locks of obsidian hair that hung greasy in his eyes.

Don’t make me do this, dad. That’s what he wanted to say. It was in his throat, burning in his tongue, itching on his lips. He opened his mouth, and _bam_ his heart pounded. _Bam, Bam, Bam_. His breaths were rythmatical- almost playing a tune in time with his shuddering heart. He blinked once. Twice. A third time. He remembered something he’d read online a while ago. Or was it something he had heard a friend say? It was that once you become self aware to the fact that you are blinking, you can’t stop. He blinked. Felt moisture on his cheek. Blinked again. Oh god, his eye started to itch- his throat closed up and he had to hold his breath to stop a sob from breaking its way out of his mouth - his protective shield at the moment.

“We don’t have all day, Philip.” his dad had _that_ tone again. The tone he couldn’t fucking argue with. He made sure he narrowed his eyes at his father, silently wished he could somehow become angry and upset and _betrayed_ enough to actually manage to convert those damn emotions into laser beams that would shoot out of his eyes like some kind of comic-book character, and fry the retina’s in Richard Lester’s incredibly dull eyes.

_Eight. Nine._

_Burn out the disappointment_ Phil thought as he descended down each step, treasuring every damn movement. _Remove the anger and confusion_. He made a show of acting like a rebellious teenage boy, even if he was two years off. He was twenty one. Broke. And getting thrown out of his parents house. But he knew _why_ he was getting disowned. It wasn’t because Terrence Carter had fired him after battering him with a rolling pin, which sounds funny, but getting it smashed into your face at least **ten** times a heartbeat isn’t so amusing. Phil still winced when he even bothered smiling.

_Ten_

_Eleven_

_Twelve_

It wasn’t because he had single handedly lost both his group of friends and respect from the community in a single second, not even single- a fifteen second kiss, which made his stomach flip over despite his mind screaming out _this is wrong_ and his heart start hammering even when his girlfriend was yelling at him. Yelling at him to stop. Yelling that he was _showing her up_. I guess it was the kiss that ruined everything. The kiss he shared with Harry Carter, the kid with bright green eyes and a pretty mop of chestnut bed hair. It felt nice when Phil had ran his hands through it- tangled it between his fingers, twisted and pulled at it as he attacked Harry’s lips with more passion that he had ever shown to Amy Peralta. His ex girlfriend. His ex best friend. His ex- well, everything.

 _Thirteen_. Phil looked down. Two more steps. No, it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be there already. But the moss green carpet, his mother’s favourite, was there. Reality hit him then- square in face. He was suddenly standing in the family hall in nothing but some ratty band t-shirt which had shrunken, and some old skinny jeans with holes in them. There was the front door- in all of his damn glory. He had been through it so many times - five year old Phil who had fell off his bike and needed urgent medical attention, thirteen year old Phil who had fell in a nettle bush and was screaming bloody murder. His heart sank then. Last week when he had stumbled in, drunk, newly jobless, and with multiple bruises on his face. His gaze flickered away from the door, and he found himself inevitably staring at his own things.

 _Well, at least they were neat_. Was his only thought as he frowned at the pile of his things in a heap on the hallway carpet. In a way, they spotted his mother’s perfect flooring with disease. His sleeping bag oozing _craziness_ and _immorality_. That’s what they called him. Crazy and immoral.

_Disgusting_

_Faggot_

_No son of mine will have feelings for a boy!_

“I’m sorry, Phil.” his mother was holding his trainers in shaking hands, and he had to admit, seeing her _physically_ shove them into his face, broke his _everything_. He swallowed hard and snatched them off her, dropping them and shoving his feet into them. “I can try and get my job back,” he knew it was useless. Anything he did wouldn’t change their mind. He choked out a sob and straightened up, grabbing the stupid bin bag of his clothes. “You do realize you’re sick, right?” he laughed, but then spat right at his father’s feet. His father flinched like he was going to attack him, like Terrence Carter did when he saw Phil slamming Harry against the wall and letting the boy wrap his legs out his waist.

He should have apologized profusely the second Harry’s dad caught them. He _should_ have said it was a joke or a dare. It was New Year’s Eve after all. He could have blamed it on a drunken mistake, but he didn’t. What he _did_ do was the reason why he was being thrown out into the cold. Why his mother couldn’t look him in the eye and why his so called friends had completely deleted him from their lives.

He had kissed harder. Even when Terrence, a true bible basher, had gripped him by the neck and tried to pry him off Harry. But he was so _into it_ \- into feeling and tasting the boy’s lips, gripping spikes of chestnut and yanking at them. Harry didn’t stop either. He moaned into Phil’s mouth, something which sounded like _more_ and his eyes were squeezed shut, unable to see the startled face of his father. And yes, Phil was going to give the boy more. In fact he had been drunkenly fumbling with the zipper on Posh Harry’s jeans, until something- later known to be a rolling pin- had smashed into his forehead so aggressively that he saw stairs twirling and twinkling across his vision like he was suddenly either severely sleep deprived or on some kind of hallucinogenic drug.

The rest was history. There he was, a week into 2017, standing with his bags packed and no actual plan on what next. It was January. There were snow storms forecast all week- he didn’t think he would even get a mile in his car, never mind eight miles into town. His mother handed him a tainted leather wallet which he took and shoved in his pocket without even looking. “It’s for a hotel.” she said, or tried to say. Her lips was trembling and Phil couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. _Are you being kicked out into a snowstorm, mum?_

“Well, you should get going, son,” his father cleared his throat when he moved forward to wrap his arms around his mother. “You’ll want to beat traffic.”

Phil scoffed at that and stepped away from his mother. Instead he pasted a _very fake_ brave smile on his face and grabbed his backpack which lay amongst his stuff.

“Sell the rest of my stuff on Ebay.” were his parting words as he grabbed the steel door handle and pushed it down. It opened and he took a deep breath, walking straight into a blizzard of icy snow which hit him in the face and slid down his neck, causing shivers up and down his spine. Okay, he underestimated how cold it was.

He took a deep breath, holding in the plea and merciful cry to be let back in. He shouldered his bag and felt a slow smile stretch across his face as he watched snowflakes fall from an empty night sky and dance across his vision.

“I hope you rot in hell.” he said, and he was sure they heard him over the whistling cry off the wind. He heard the door slam behind him and let out a sharp laugh instead of a desperate cry. He embraced the cold instead of the sudden empty shocking feeling of loneliness begin to rip open his heart. All because of a kiss, he thought as he walked, and then ran through a powerful blast of the elements- as he threw himself into the driving seat of his car, chucked his bag in the back and jammed the keys into the ignition. All this because of a kiss.

He leaned back in his seat, set the wind wipers to clear snow off of the glass, and switched on the radio.

“This is Newsbeat at 5:30. You are listening to Radio One!” The perky DJ gave way to another voice; less excited and more monotone. “Professor Marcus Jeffords has astounded onlookers today by revealing-”

Phil switched the radio off and instead sat in silence, listening to the wipers scraping stubborn snow away, and the hum of the heater as it slowly warmed up the car.

 _A fucking kiss_ he thought with a small smirk, as he put the car into drive and began reversing out out of his parents driveway. He slammed the gas and watched tiny snowflakes begin to dart across his windshield before being wiped from the face of the earth by the wipers.

 _So fucking worth it_. He thought, before burning rubber and driving away from his parents house for the last time.

~

“Can I get a shot of rum please?” His hands shook as he handed over a crumpled note. He leaned across the bar, soaking in its warmth and the relief that it was pretty empty for a Wednesday night apart from an eight-piece family sitting at what looked like a birthday celebration meal. Someone was singing a cover of Nirvana’s _only song_ Smells Like Teenage Spirit on the radio. He wished people would stop covering it. There was only one person who could do it right and that guy had pierced a bullet through his head.

Naturally, he found himself back at the place he never thought he’d ever visit again, yet numb fingers and blocked roads said otherwise. Harry and his dad were on holiday in the Bahama’s, so lucky them. The bartender was a girl with a heart shaped face and curly brown hair with golden piercings in her lip and ear.

She wore a scowl. “ID?” All it took was a glance at his greasy hair dotted with melting snowflakes and t-shirt which had some band he worshiped when he was a kid. Phil sighed and fumbled in his coat pocket for his passport and held it up for her to look at it. “Phil Leater.” she squinted at the card and did a double take. “Wow, I thought you were a fifteen year old kid trying to get served.” Phil ignored her. “It’s Lester,” he corrected. “Not Leater.”

The girl shrugged. “Whatever.” she got to work preparing his drink. “Is that pure rum you wanted or do you want it with a mixer?”

“Pure.” Phil mumbled, making himself comfy. He wanted his throat to burn and set fire to his stomach. He wanted to forget tonight, forget _everything_.

The barmaid set two shots in front of him and he frowned, confused. “I said one?” but she waved him off. “Dude, you might be a dick, but you’re the first guy that’s come in who’s my age all night,” she paused and smirked. “Who hasn’t tried to hit on me.”

Phil didn’t smile back. “I’m gay.” he dead panned, but the girl just grinned. “And I’m Claire,” she held out a hand for him to shake. She had tattoo’s weaving up and down her arm. When he didn’t shake it she rolled her eyes. “Relax, I’m covering my girlfriend’s shift tonight.” she put way more emphasis on “girlfriend” than necessary and grinned at him again.

Phil wondered if Claire had been battered by the pub owner for even mentioning that she was gay. But just one look at her skin, a pasty white minus dark blue bruises, meant she was either keeping it low key or Terrence Carter tolerated it.

He downed the shot in one and scrunched his face up when his throat burst into flames. “Arghh!” he laughed a little and Claire rolled her eyes and pulled him a glass of water.  “On me.” she smirked when he took it thankfully and downed it. Claire watched him with a warm smile. “For the guy who hasn’t drunk rum in his life.”

“Apart from now.” Phil choked. His throat was still burning. Claire nodded, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. Okay. Maybe she wasn’t so bad.

“It’s meant to burn your throat and then give your stomach a warm, cosy feeling.” she gestured to pull another shot and Phil nodded. “Just keep pulling me glasses of water and I’ll have as many as possible.”

Claire leant her elbows on the mahogany wood of the bar with a quizzical expression. “Scuse me for the cliché, but why’s a guy like you drinking straight rum on a Wednesday night?” Phil arched a brow. She mustn’t know he used to work at the bar. He shrugged. “Parents just threw me out.” he replied and tried to ignore her look of disgust. “It’s the middle of Winter!”

“Try telling them that.” he muttered. Claire just sighed. “My parents chucked me out when I was seventeen.” she said quietly. “They caught me and Kyla-” she pulled a face and blushed. “Well..” she tried to insinuate it with her fingers and Phil surprised himself by laughing. “Wow.”

Claire nodded. “Yep!” she chirped. “But leaving home was the best decision I made,” she grinned. “Me and Kyla have all the time in the world to-” her cheeks went a rosy pink and instead of speaking she pulled herself a shot and downed it.

“Hurts, huh?” Phil smirked when she gagged and pulled a face. She set the shot glass down. “The rum scorching my throat or my parents kicking me out?”

Phil handed his glass over for another refill. “Both.”

Claire just laughed humorlessly. He liked the sour tone. It was like she was silently saying “fuck them” to both of their parents. Phil shivered and fiddled with his shot glass. “I don’t suppose anyone’s hiring?” he asked. Claire nodded. “Actually, yeah!” she turned and grabbed a bright green flier from behind the bar and turned back to him, slapping it in front of him.

Phil leaned forward and stared at the flier.  The words which were printed in bold jumped out, automatically interesting him. Especially the word: “paid”.

**WANTED:**

**18-25 YEAR OLDS AS NEW PATIENTS FOR CLINICAL TRIALS AT THE GREENVIEW MEDICAL RESEARCH CENTER.**

**YOU WILL BE PAID £2,000 FOR A WEEK**

**PLEASE NOTE: WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ANY SIDE EFFECTS THAT MAY OCCUR.**

**PLEASE CONTACT:** **TELEPHONE: 0700 678 544  FOR MORE INFORMATION.**

Phil looked up at Claire, who too was reading the flier. “Sell my body to science?” he laughed it off, but admittedly, it sounded pretty good. Getting paid to take some weird new drugs and sit around doing nothing for a week?

“You do realize you’ll be a guinea pig, right?” Claire cocked her head, a strand of hair falling in her face. “Wow..” she laughed and pulled another shot, pushing it towards him. “You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?”

Phil downed the shot and this time it didn’t hit him as hard. His head felt fuzzy. “It’s money, right?” he looked at Claire for reassurance, despite just meeting her. She shrugged. “I guess?” she frowned. “But Lester,” she stabbed a manicured nail on the small print on the flier. “Please note,” she murmured. “We are not responsible for any side effects that may occur.”

He laughed. “How bad could it be?” when she didn’t look him in the eye, only grabbing a cloth and some spray, beginning to wipe the bar down, he sighed.  “I’m desperate, and it’s my only bet.”

“Your life.” Claire smiled at him sweetly. He took the flier and shoved it in his pocket. Phil opened his mouth to ask for another shot, but was interrupted by someone standing next to him. Oh, he hadn’t realized. But when he did turn to look, all he saw was Harry Carter, leaning over the bar. His heart sank. Thick chestnut hair falling in his eyes, dimples expanding when he smiled. Phil went hot all over and tried to hide his face. “Can I get some help?” Relief filled him. Not Harry Carter. Just some guy…Phil couldn’t help staring. Just some guy who was the spitting image of the boy he loved.

The guy was in a black t-shirt and jeans and looked more like he was asking for a Pina Colada on a Holiday resort in spain. “Excuse me?” the boy was southern, he realized. Claire smiled. “Yeah? What can I do for you?” the boy’s lips curled into a a polite smile. He had skin the colour of warm honey like Harry. “Uh- my friend Cath has had a little bit too much to drink?” he gestured over his shoulder where a girl with sleek black hair was swaying in her chair, giggling.

“Can you call her a taxi?” The boy asked. “My phone’s dead.” Claire nodded and smiled. “Yeah, course! I’ll ring them when they open in twenty,” she gave him an apologetic grin. “Nearest taxi service is limiting journey’s.”

The boy smiled. “Thanks!” and then he glanced at Phil then for a single second, his lips curving into a small smile. He didn’t say anything though, even when Phil’s stomach flipped over.Then he was walking back to his friend - _probably girlfriend_ Phil thought sourly.

Phil turned back to Claire when the boy was gone, and found her staring at him with a grin pasted on her face. “What was _that_?” she laughed, and he frowned. “What was what?”

“Dude, you just checked him out,” she laughed again when he shook his head, she continued to gush like a thirteen year old schoolgirl.  “And I can’t say he didn’t check you out!”

“He’s just a stranger.” he murmured. Images of the boy’s messy hair falling in his eyes- hair he wanted to tangle and twist around his fingers. “Anyway!” he pulled the flier back out his pocket and spread it out on the bar. “When was this brought in?” he studied the paper and looked for a date. Claire tapped her nails on the mahogany. “Uh, last week, I think?”

 _My phone’s dead_ he thought, eyeing the number on the flier. Could he do it? Could he really sell his body to science for money?

He had no other fucking choice.

“Hey,” he leaned over the bar. “Can I have a coffee to go?” Claire nodded and turned to grab a polystyrene cup. “Oh, and can I possibly use your phone for five minutes?” he asked.

Claire nearly dropped his cup and laughed. “Dude, it’s your funeral.”

*

Two days later, he was sitting rather comfortably in the back of a taxi while blizzards continued to attack the windscreen of the cab. The taxi driver cursed, muttering something under his breath. “Why on earth are you coming up here?” he asked, fiddling with the radio. There was just static, since they were quite literally in the middle of nowhere. Phil leaned back on his seat and stared out of the window, leaning his face on the frosty glass. The flier was still stuffed in his pocket. “Just a job.” he replied. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. He watched fields of white fly by and wondered if Britain was actually going to be buried in snow. It had been up to his knees back when he caught the cab, and that was nearly an hour ago. Two days prior he’d managed to hole up at Claire’s for a few nights. Kyla her girlfriend kept bringing him soup and coffee which was nice. He’d used the two days at Claire’s to contact the medical research center and give over his details, medical records, and weirdly, his family’s details.”I’m estranged from my family,” he’d told a bored sounding women, who instantly seemed to perk up. “Oh, I’ll enroll you then!”

The sky was darkening, he realized, sitting up straight. When he looked ahead, it was just a road, which seemed to go on forever. The bored sounding women had told him he had to be there by half past six. He glanced at his phone and panic set in his stomach. Quarter past.

“How much further?” he asked, pressing his face against the glass. His eyes widened. The cabbie glanced at his phone which displayed Google Maps. “Relax kid, it’s just up this road,” he said and Phil relaxed, leaning back into his seat. “You could probably see the facility by now if it wasn’t for this fucking snow,” the cabbie grumbled. Then; “Sorry, pardon my language.”

Phil smirked. “It’s fine, as long as you can get me there for quarter past six.” The cabbie nodded. “Ah, there it is! Right in the distance, kid!”

Phil followed the cabbie’s gaze and the man was right. Except it wasn’t “right in the distance” it was just ahead. The building seemed to materialize out of nowhere. It stood on it’s own- a four block building with see through windows. In fact, everything was see-through. The whole facility was made of glass. He could just make out a staircase inside, leading to wherever.

Damn, it looked cool. Especially the blizzard. It looked like something you would see in a snowglobe. Phil unbuckled his seatbelt and took his phone out of his pocket, snapping some pictures. The cabbie drove him right to the front door - which looked warm and homey, automatic doors leading into a brightly lit reception. “Here we are,” the cabbie announced, parking the car and turning to Phil. “Greenview Medical Research Center,” he held out his hand, smiling. “That’ll be seventy two pounds please.” Phil nodded, zipping his bag open and pulling out his wallet, yanking out a few dozen twenties. “Keep the change!” he said, passing over the money and grabbing his bag, climbing out of the car, and landing in at least five inches of snow. Phil shivered and waved the cabbie off. The headlights blinded him but illuminated the blizzard, making it look even more fucking beautiful. “What am I doing?” Phil groaned to himself as he made his way to reception, wading through the snow. He was so thankful for Claire and Kyla wrapping him up in a dozen coats this morning. Claire even let him borrow her snow boots.

The reception area was warm. The second he walked in, a fan automatically blew warm air through him and the doors closed behind him. Phil wiped his feet on the mat and spied a tall women with lush red hair and a pursed smile behind a desk with a potted plant and a laptop computer sitting on it. “Are you here for the YP trials?” she asked when he went over.

What the hell does “YP” mean?

“Yeah,” Phil smiled politely and glanced at the clock. Six forty. He was ten minutes late, of course he was. “Can I take your name?” the women asked. He nodded and gave it her, along with his date of birth and registration number. The women typed into her computer quickly, and while she did that, Phil looked around. The whole reception area screamed: Home. It had brightly coloured walls with photographs of smiling people his age and posters warning of STD’s and various other young person orientated diseases. There were bright orange sofa’s in the waiting area with a wooden table filled with magazines and - Phil squinted. Were those iPads?

“Ah! You’re in group four in room 502,” the women smiled and handed him a bunch of papers with paragraphs of writing he didn’t have time to read. “That’s the written agreement to do the trails,” the women explained. “Don’t sign it now, do it later, you’re already late.”

Phil nodded, trying hard not to grit his teeth. It was surely getting to 6:50 right now. He didn’t dare look at the clock. “And you need to wear these at all times,” she handed over a bright red glowing bracelet which Phil resisted the urge to gawp at. “And this card will get you anywhere within the living facilities- like the dorms, bathrooms and entertainment rooms.”  she handed him a yellow card which must just be for clocking in. “Okay! So I know you’re late for the induction talk, but I need to get a photo of you for your patient card, can you come around here please?”

Phil started to walk over, but the women shook her head. “Leave your bag. It’ll take a second.”

“Alright.” Phil let his bag slip off his shoulder and land on the marble flooring and walked over to where the women was standing. “Can you stand against the wall and keep your head straight?” she held a camera, and Phil swallowed a groan. He hated having his picture taken. The flash blinded him but the women smiled appreciatively. “That’s all done now! If you could come back after the talk and pick up your patient card, that would be great.” When Phil nodded and smiled, the woman tutted. “Well, go on then, Doctor Nichols is waiting for you.”

Phil didn’t even have to ask before the woman rolled her eyes. “It’s just down those stairs, and turn right. There should be a glass room. Just knock and wait to be let in.”

Phil nodded. “Thanks.” the women didn’t answer, and he took that as a cue to get going. He made his way across reception and down the stairs, passing two vending machines and wishing he had a pound. He was starving, god dammit. He walked past the vendors despite his grumbling stomach and then spotted the glass room and his heart sank when he saw a small group of at least fifteen or twenty kids sitting across four tables in various colours of clothing, listening to a man in his late thirties. The man was bald and in jeans and a t-shirt underneath a bright white lab coat. Phil swallowed and made his way over to the door. His hand shook as he knocked three times.

The man looked up at the same time as the other patients turned around to stare at him. “Come in!” the man shouted, and Phil, feeling like his legs were glued together, yanked open the door and stepped inside. Inside the room there were simply tables and a whiteboard. “May I ask why you’re twenty minutes late, mr..?” Phil cleared his throat. “Lester.” he said, and then, “Sorry, it’s snowing pretty bad outside so the roads are blocked.” he explained, though his voice sounded squeaky like he’d inhaled a canister of helium before he got there.

“No shit.” someone, a guy in a blue baseball cap, muttered. The rest of the group laughed quietly. Phil felt his face burn up and hurried to sit at an empty seat at the nearest table.

“As I was saying..” the Doctor started explaining things again, and Phil tried to take it in, but he couldn’t get over the embarrassment of walking in so late. He slouched in his chair and tried to hide his face with his fringe, while taking a look around to see who he’d have to tolerate for the next couple of weeks. On his table there were two girls and three boys, including him. One of the girls, a big, pretty blonde girl with rosy cheeks and pink streaks in her hair, smiled at him.

He smiled back. Next to her sat the other girl with olive skin, long black hair and a red beret. She didn’t smile at him, only gave him a quick once-over, before turning her attention back to the Doctor.

“The trials will start as soon as this briefing is over,” the Doctor said. “You are free to walk out at any time before we give you the drug. After, you will not be able to leave this facility under no circumstances. Is that understood?” there was a murmur of “yes” “no” and “whatever”.

“Now, H9987, the drug you will be taking was made to enhance your memory. Instead of simply recalling a memory, such as a day at the beach- we want you to remember that day as if it just happened. Such as the sound of it, the taste and feel of it. We want you to feel like you just experienced it again.” there was an excited murmur among the group. A guy’s hand shot up.

“Yes?” The Doctor called on him, and the boy laughed. “Will we be able to remember things such as sex like that?”

The group cackled again, and Phil couldn’t help smirking himself. They were a group of 18-25 year olds and still found the word “sex” funny.  No wonder elderly people hated them.

“Yes, I believe you can in fact remember sexual intercourse as it just happened,” the Doctor answered professionally. Not even a flicker of amusement. The boy let out a cat-call and Phil rolled his eyes. “Now, as you may already know, with all experiments we need variables so we can get the right results,” the Doctor explained. “So, fifty percent of you will be given the drug and experience the full effects, and the other fifty percent will receive the placebo, which means you will feel nothing at all.” there was another murmur. This time it was disappointment.

“I hope I get the placebo,” the girl with blonde hair and pink streaks murmured. The other girl with the beret turned to her. “Seriously?” and she nodded. “I’ve never been high before in my life,” she sighed. “I’m doing this to pay my student loan back.” she shrugged. “Well, some of it.”

“I don’t even like needles.” The girl with the beret said with a sad smile. “My parents chucked me out when they found out I was a stripper,” she scoffed. “Then I was fired for being ‘too ugly’ when I turned up to work with messed up makeup and straggly hair.” Both Phil and the pink haired girl stared at her. “Oh, I’m Zoe by the way!” she smiled at them sweetly.

“Louise.” the pink haired girl introduced herself, but Phil stayed silent. He didn’t want to make friends, screw that. He was testing out this drug, getting paid, and getting the hell out of here.

“Okay, so if you could follow me, please!” The Doctor shouting now, and the group were standing up, scraping chairs back and grabbing their bags. “I’m going to take you to the dorms where you can get settled.” Phil jumped up, grabbing his bag. “Excuse me, Mr- Lester?” the Doctor called his name as the others cleared out of the room, making conversations with each other in small groups. Zoe and Louise were already gone. Phil made his way over to the front where the Doctor stood by the door, holding it open as kids walked out, dragging belongings.

“Your patient card.” Doctor Nichols handed him his card which was attached to a bright orange lanyard. Phil nodded and put the lanyard over his neck, saying a quick thanks, and rushing out to join the others.

*

The dorms were up at least four flights of stairs, and Phil was glad he was reasonably fit to conquer them. He stood at the top as the others traipsed upstairs, talking animatedly to each other. Louise and Zoe had clearly made friends. They were the second and third ones up, automatically making their way over to Phil. “Latecomer!” Zoe grinned at him, fiddling with her lanyard around her neck.

 _Late comer._ Phil thought. Great nickname.

Zoe continued. “What did you say your name was?” Phil swallowed a curse and smiled politely. “It’s Phil.” he introduced himself to the two girls and Louise nodded, smiling.

“So, is there a reason you’re here, Phil, or..” Zoe adjusted her beret so it sat perfectly on her styled hair. Phil shrugged. “I’m just here to get paid?” he let out a nervous laugh. “Like you guys, right?” and Louise nodded, laughing a bit _too_ loud. “Yes! That’s just why we’re here!”

Zoe arched an eyebrow at her new friend, and then smirked at Phil. Louise twirled a lock of pinky blonde hair around her finger and smiled at him. He smiled back, not really having the heart to tell her he was gay. “Fuck! There’s blood in my throat, I actually think I’m dying, jesus fucking christ,” a voice sounded and the three of them looked down to see a boy quite literally crawling up the stairs. “Are you okay?” Zoe leaned over the banister, but she was laughing.

The boy glanced up for a second, fringe in his eyes so Phil couldn’t see his face. Phil swore he detected confusion in the boy’s eyes. “Company!” he gasped, sounding even more questioning in his tone.

But then the confusion diminished. “Yeah!” the boy answered Zoe’s question, letting out a few exaggerated gasps for breath. He dragged his bag up another step and looked up, grinning at them. Dimples expanded, chestnut coloured hair falling in his eyes. Phil felt his heart jump. The guy from the pub was here? Phil couldn’t help staring as the boy forced himself up more steps while Louise and Zoe cheered him on, rather sarcastically than genuine. The boy was wearing a black leather jacket with skinny jeans and a t-shirt with the slogan: _fuck materialism_ on it. Phil smiled. He already liked the boy.

_But how could he be here?_

Once the boy had managed to get up the steps, he now stood, or rather slumped, against the wall, panting.  His hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, which Phil couldn’t help thinking was a little fucking hot. Louise smirked. “Aren’t you supposed to be physically fit for the trials?”

The boy rolled his eyes with a grin. “I wasn’t put into the programme for my body fitness, it’s my _mind_ that they’re interested in.”  he said, matter-of-factly. Zoe frowned. “Wait, you were _put_ into the trials?”

The boy frowned. “Wait, you guys weren’t? His gaze wavered on the three of them, landing on Zoe, Louise, and then- him. For a second the boy looked shocked. His eyes widened, but more in amusement if anything else. And then he was looking away again. Just like last time.

“I was contacted by the facility because of my university scores,” the boy said, and Phil detected a hint of smugness to his tone. “I happen to be top of all my classes.”

“Does your ass taste good?” a new voice asked, and the four of them turned to see a red-haired girl, along with most of the rest of the group, standing on top of the stairs. The boy opened his mouth to answer, perhaps with some smartass response because after all _he was top of all of his classes_. But Doctor Nichols came bounding up the stairs. “Thank you for being patient,” he said, pushing through the group of kids and holding a keycard in front of a metal panel. It bleeped and turned green and the doors slid open. “These are the dorms,” he announced.

Doctor Nichols led the group through automatic doors, leading into a large living area which looked more like a five star hotel games room. There were pool tables scattered across the room, comfy looking sofa’s in just about every corner of the room and a PlayStation four hooked up to a wide screen TV mounted on the wall.

“Make yourselves at home,” The Doctor smiled almost smugly as the group stared, transfixed, at the huge dining area, the mini fridges, and wow, even a heated pool behind a thick sheet of glass. Phil couldn’t help gawping, Louise and Zoe both smiling ear to ear. “We have a fully functional living space with stocked fridges, a Playstation, Xbox and various games and pool tables.” Doctor Nichols wandered over to the TV and the group followed him eagerly. “Movement sensors control the TV and games console as demonstrated.” he waves a hand in front of the screen and it flickered onto a news channel displaying a women looking grim.

“The motion sensors also detect the lights,” he continued. “And lastly we have unlimited WIFI.” he pointed to the far wall. “The code is on that poster over there.”

Members of the group started to swarm around the room already, bunches of them diving onto the sofa’s and three guys started sorting through the video game collection rack by the TV. Though most of the kids had gathered around the WIFI poster and were tapping their phones.

Phil idly wandered over to the glass wall which separated the living area and the pool room. He pressed his face against the glass and stared inside. There was a large swimming pool lit up by small lights on the outer edges, the water’s surface a pretty turquoise, reflecting off the walls.

“You may use the pool room,” a voice made him jump and he turned to face Doctor Nichols. The man was smiling at him with just the right amount of teeth to really be grimacing. Phil nodded and didn’t say anything. “Right! I’ll leave you to get settled, and we’ll start calling your name out for your first dosing.” The Doctor smiled and gave a two fingered salute, before leaving the group to explore.

Phil found a booth and sat down with a sigh. Almost a second later, he was joined by Zoe and Louise, and then a few minutes later, the guy from earlier who nearly died from climbing up the stairs, appeared too. “Budge up!” he smiled at the three of them hopefully and Louise nodded eagerly, shifting her weight to the left so he could shuffle into the booth.

“Hey guys!” he greeted them smiling so hard Phil wondered if his dimples were going to concave into his cheeks. “I’m Daniel. My friends call me Dan.” his fringe fell in his eyes when he nodded at them.

Zoe smiled back. “I’m Zoe, that’s Louise, and he’s Phil.” she introduced them and Dan waved shyly. “Hi.”

“So, I was thinking, we could go round and say a fact-” Zoe was interrupted by Dan who leaned forward, playing with a skull key ring on his bag. “So let me get this straight,” he fixed them all with a look of confusion. Man, his eyes are pretty. Phil couldn’t help noticing they were a golden brown with specks of tainted gold. “You guys are all here voluntarily?”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Dan, we get it, you’re a special snowflake.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. I was physically brought here.”

Louise frowned and gasped. She leaned forward, her eyebrows furrowing. “Wait, like, kidnapped?”

Dan laughed at that. “No! My dad brought me here. He said I’ve been chosen for some tests he’s been working on?” he shrugged, playing with the drawstrings on his hoodie under his jacket. “Some kind of experimental drugs that enhances memory.”

Zoe looked floored. Phil tried to register what Dan had just said. “What?!” Zoe squeaked. Dan frowned. “Oh, you don’t know what that means? Uh, let me simplify it. The memory makes up at least-”

“That’s not what I meant!” Zoe sighed. “Did you just say your dad is working on the experiments?”

Dan stared at them as if they had only just developed the ability to speak English. “Yes.” he said. “My father is Doctor Howell, who’s in charge of the study.”

Louise frowned. “Why has your dad submitted his own son for testing, then?”

Dan shrugged. “Beats me.” he fixed them with a look. “Funny thing is, dad didn’t mention anyone else. He just said I’d be living at the facility for a few weeks so I can be tested with trial drugs.”

“And you’re okay with that.” Zoe sent him a side glance. Dan nodded. “Yeah! It’s better than university.”

Phil frowned. “So why are we-” he noticed that was the first time he’d directly spoken to Dan, and the other boy’s expression lit up when he saw Phil had opened his mouth. But quickly Zoe intervened. “So, moving on,” she shot a look at Phil and he shut his mouth. “What are you guys all planning to do with the two grand?”

“Holiday!” Louise blurted excitedly. “I’m dying to go to Australia to meet my pen pal.”

“Pen pal?” Zoe snorted, nudging her friend playfully. “Are we in 2006?”

“He’s called Ash.” Louise blushed a soft Crimson and Phil couldn’t help smiling at the girl. She was all kinds of adorable. The second he saw her back in the briefing room, wearing a butterfly printed dress and fluffy headband. He automatically knew they were going to be friends, somehow. Even if his original plan was to not make any attachments to anyone.

Zoe cooed. “Aww! Have you spoken to him, like on the phone?” Louise’s mouth split into an excited grin. “Yes!” she gushed. “His accent sounds amazing, oh my god, I can’t wait to meet him.”

Louise, practically shaking with excitement, told the four of them about Ash and his life in Australia while Phil leaned on his hand and half listened to nurses coming into the living area and calling out names.

“Charlie Deaton!”

“Melanie Johnson!”

“Cody Valquez!”

He watched kids jump up from lounging with friends and follow the nurses out through the automatic doors. Phil watched a nurse make her way inside clutching a clipboard. She had short brown curly hair just to her shoulders and pale skin.

_Hey, she looks a bit like…_

Phil’s mind jolted with recognition and he sat up straight, squinting at the nurse, who called a name out. “Jacob Santiago!” she smiled when a boy with olive skin and scruffy brown hair walked up to her and gestured for him to follow her. He knew her. He stared at the nurse; pasty white skin and a warm smile. Her arms clutching a clipboard in both hands-

No tattoo’s. his mind whirled and then he knew. He knew the nurse. He knew the girl standing in a long white labcoat over a simple hot pink tshirt and jeans. Her tattoo’s were gone, her nose ring and lip ring were non-existent and when he caught her eye, she stared straight through him.

It was Claire.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think and leave Kudos if you liked! :D I'm hoping to continue it once I finish my most recent one :D


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